She Saw Him, He Saw Her
by Blarghh
Summary: The many times they saw each other, and the last time she she saw him. Previously a one-shot, but now several one-shots Pretty horrible at summaries, so why don't you read it for yourself? It's only about 1,000 words out of your day.
1. Johanna And Finnick

Disclaimer: I looked into the mirror, and there wasn't Suzanne Collins looking back at me. I guess I'm not the owner of the Hunger Games.

When _he_ first saw _her,_ he didn't think much. All he saw was a guppy about to be thrown in with sharks. He saw it every year, but all he could do was close his eyes, and hope that the death would be painless.

When _she_ first saw _him_, she was fascinated. It wasn't because of his looks, though. It was his eyes. They weren't brilliant and shining like his smile was. They were sad, haunting, _wanting_. She didn't pay much attention afterwards though. It's not as if _she_ would ever even be acquaintances with _him_.

The second time _he_ laid _his_ eyes on _her_, both his tributes died. He scowled at first when _he_ realized that _she_ killed them. But his scowl turned into a smile, and his smile turned into a laugh, and soon he was sent back to the training center, having had enough for the night.

The second time _she_ laid _her_ eyes on him, she was wearing a **stupid** frilly dress, with **stupid** high heeled shoes, and **stupid** capitol makeup. He looked dashing though. She still scowled throughout the night at his district, but at least _he_ was there.

The third time they laid their eyes on each other, it was a formal greeting for the mentors. He held out his hand for her to shake, but she just stood there, eyes cold. He was confused. "Not everyone in Panem wants to touch the fishy hands of the famous Finnick Odair.", she spat at him. That was the first time out of many he didn't have a response to her. She walked away, as he smiled.

The fourth time _he_ saw _her_, she was shivering. It wasn't because of the pouring rain outside of the Training center; it was because of what _that monster_ did to her. She stood at the lobby of the building, just shivering, and feeling small. He led her to the fourth floor, and soon they were both laughing for the first time in months. She fell asleep grasping his hand, and he didn't want to let go.

The next year, she wasn't scowling on the train ride there. She knew that _she_ would be able to see _him _again. They would get to laugh, and talk together. It was the thing she was looking forward to all year. But that didn't happen. Instead _she_ got to watch as _he_ focused only on _that girl_. They didn't get to laugh that night. Instead _she_ got to sit there watching _him_ cry at the thought of losing _her_. "I don't think I can live without her, Johanna." His voice whispered to her, and her eyes turned cold again.

_She_ had an appointment that night, but instead of being picked up by _him_ once she arrived shivering at the lobby, she slept on that ground floor all night, waiting. Blight carried her to her bed at around 3AM, and it was the first time in months she had a nightmare. Once again, she didn't have a hand to grasp in the middle of the night.

_That girl_ won. She won the games, fame, and _his_ heart. The only thing was, was that now she was psycho. He didn't seem too happy about her mental condition, and she thought that she could have him again. Once again, what she wished for never happened. They grew apart.

On the 75th hunger games, they talked again. He was confused. _Her_ eyes were cold, her stance was guarded; this wasn't the girl he thought he knew. "Hey, Johanna!" he called out to her when they first arrived. "Hello, Finnick", she replied in an all too formal tone. He didn't know, of course, that she loved him. She continued this act, until the night of the interviews. There he was, dashing as ever. He shook her, wanting to know what was wrong. She collapsed, and cried for the first time in years. He didn't know what to do, so he just held her, waiting for her hurting to stop. It never does, though.

Of course, the next time they see each other, they're fighting in an arena. _She_ gets captured, and all she's hoping is that _he_ is safe. She didn't know why she would care. He was now barely an acquaintance. They tortured her.

He was in District 13, praying that Annie was rescued. He felt as if he was forgetting something, and then he remembered _her_.

The last time they see each other, she was in the mental hospital, and he was there to say goodbye. Of course, the only thing he talked about was her. To take care of _he_r, to help _her_, to make sure _she_ was ok. He didn't see that _she_ was the one that needed help, that _she_ needed someone to take care of her, that _she_ needed _him_ to make sure she was ok. She started crying again, and this time he knew what was wrong. He kissed her forehead and whispered, "I love you too, Johanna."

They stopped crying after a while, and then he had to go. She knew it was the last time that she was going to see him. It was announced that he died soon after.

She didn't let go of him, she wrote letters, she cried his name in the night, and she shivered whenever somebody mentioned him. She thought the hurting would never end. Then _she_ remembered _her_. The girl that was pregnant with _his_ child. She went to District 4. She saw _him_ again, she saw him in the baby's brilliant shining eyes, those innocent eyes. She lived with them until she grew old. It took some time, but the hurting stopped.

_She_ was eighty-three when she saw _him_ again.

Author's note: Thank you so much for reading my story! This is my first one on this site, so I would love it if you could review.


	2. Gale And Catnip

The first time _he_ saw _her_, it was merely a glimpse of a braid, and an all too-skinny body. He thought it was just a seam girl lost in the woods. He didn't pay mind until he saw her again.

The first time _she_ saw _him_, she was awe-struck. Somebody else in these woods? Well obviously, who else would have hung these snares? She was wary of the young man, but decided that she needed the knowledge.

The second time _he_ saw _her_, she was a little less skinny, and just a little bit more….entrancing? What? She was a 12 year old girl; he shook it off, and continued walking down the halls of the dreary school.

The second time _she_ saw _him_, they were hunting alongside one another. Not together, mind you, but the way infants will play with dolls next to each other, rather than together. She liked it, it made her feel safe. She reminded herself to not get used to this feeling, they were mere partners, not even acquaintances.

The third time _he_ saw _her,_ she was gliding through the woods like a gazelle, except this gazelle was the predator, hunting for her prey. He smiled.

The saw each other twice a week after those few days. Every Saturday and Sunday was _his_ days for _her_, and her days for him. "4 years of those special days…" he thought to himself. Today was the day. She was becoming closer to him every single day, and he thought that they were close enough. Just close enough for him to tell her that he loved her. All he needed to do was wait until after the reaping.

"Primrose Everdeen" that woman's voice called out. The first thought that came to his mind was that _it was not her_. At least it was not her. And then he realized. It practically could have been her. It might as well been, and a second later his suspicion was confirmed. _Her_ voice ringed out of the crowd proclaiming her death sentence. "I volunteer! I volunteer as tribute" her voice, usually music to his ears, was now like nails to a chalkboard.

He walked towards the Justice building _wishing_ that this was not the last time he saw her. He walked home to the Seam _hoping_ that that was not the last time he saw her. He lay down in the small bed he shared with his siblings _praying_ that this was not the last time he saw her.

His prayers were granted. That was not the last time he saw her. Nope, he still had to watch her on screen, during the Hunger Games. He saw her twirling on stage in that capitol gown, and all he could think was that _this was not her_.

And then _he_ walked up to the stage. _He_ proclaimed his love to her. _He_, who has only known _her_ for a mere weak.

His mother had to drug him with sleep meditation just so he wouldn't punch anymore holes in their already broken down home. He refused to watch the games for 5 days. _He _didn't want to see _her_ get hurt. When he finally did allow himself to look at the screen, he thought he might as well die now.

He was kissing her. How dare he, kiss _his_ girl. She wasn't really his girl, but she might as well been.

They had to get a new TV.

His eyes turned cold that day. They wouldn't warm to anybody, until _she_ came home. He was overjoyed, but when he saw her, he knew something was wrong. His dear Catnip wasn't his anymore.

He didn't see her much until he arrived at District 13. But whenever he would look at her, his eyes wouldn't twinkle. They were now dull, knowing that _he_ had lost _her_ to _him_.

He wanted to kill himself. _He killed her_. He killed the little blonde angel that meant the world to the girl he loved. His bomb murdered that little girl. He started cutting.

His therapist helped him. She helped him to stop. She thought he loved her. But he didn't. _He_ _could never love anybody._ He would only ever love Catnip, but of course Catnip was gone. He moved to district two.

It took ten years for him to love again. It wasn't a woman though. It was a child. He saw a dark haired baby with gray eyes abandoned in district two. He thought of her. He picked her up and nurtured her. She didn't look anything like her, but he still loved her. The child's grey eyes turned blue over time, and her hair grew into a light auburn. He knew it was a Capitol baby. Probably abandoned by freaks for disliking the dyed color of her hair, or the everlasting contacts in her eyes.

She would look at him with a spark in her eyes. She knew she was adopted, but she loved her daddy all the same. The only thing that bothered her was that her daddy was sad. She didn't know why. "Why are you sad, Daddy?" she asked him one day. "Just thinking" he responded. "Thinking of what? Are you thinking of _her_?" He froze. "Who, darling?" he decided to question just how much his adopted daughter knew. "About the lady in all the pictures you keep under your bed."

He hadn't looked at those pictures in almost a decade. He decided to burn them, no need to keep these memories hidden and locked away.

"I love you, Daddy" his daughter whispered to him as he tucked her into bed. "And I love, but only you", he smiled, and it was true. _He let go, and the hurting finally stopped._

The last time _he_ saw _her_, she was smiling back at him. It was only a photograph, but he felt as if it was real. He threw the very last photo into the flames, and let a single tear escape from his eyes.


End file.
